


we're on each other's team

by slidetacklefc



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Post-Trade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slidetacklefc/pseuds/slidetacklefc
Summary: It’s the weirdest mix of hurt and happiness, seeing the first photo of Sonnett in a Pride jersey.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	we're on each other's team

**Author's Note:**

> Wasn't planning to write anything about this, but then Lindsey wrote THAT instagram caption and it broke me in two. Title from Lorde's 'Team'.

The car hasn’t even pulled out of the parking lot before Lindsey starts crying.

She knows she’ll see Sonnett soon. They have national team duties in the coming weeks, and they’ll talk on the phone every day. They always have. She’ll continue to get daily Bagel updates via text. They’ll still talk.

But it won’t be the same.

It won’t be the same _ at all, _ and it makes her so mad that she grabs a throw pillow from the couch and throws it at the wall. It bounces off the floor and knocks over a tiny plant, one that she got with Emily a few months ago. Back before everything changed.

She starts crying in earnest then, tears falling down her cheeks fast and hot. She’s still so mad, furious at the Thorns and the coaching staff and the stupid Pride and the whole situation around the stupid number one pick. It’s not Sophia’s fault, but _ Sonnett _was a number one pick and she got traded for her. It’s not fair.

She’d avoided Sophia at camp as best she could. She knew she was supposed to be nice and kind and welcoming and she could do that in Portland once the dust settled, but for now she felt like a sharp reminder of everything Lindsey was losing. It felt so stupid: Sophia was 19, she wanted to play professionally, she was only doing what Lindsey herself had done as a teenager. It wasn’t her fault.

But it sucked.

The night they found out the trade was going forward, Emily had crawled into Lindsey’s bed and cried herself to sleep. The memory of that, her best friend so small and upset, makes Lindsey cry harder.

It’s completely fucked up. This league… she knows it’s how sports work, and she gets it, but she’s so _ angry. _She and Sonnett have done everything together for the last three years. They’ve gone to the Olympics together their first year. They’ve cried together in a hotel room in Brazil. They’ve won a national championship, discovered Portland together, gone on road trips. They won a World Cup together.

Emily has been there for every single good and bad day she’s had since she moved to this city, always a short walk away for a hug or a snack or a good cry session. And now she’s leaving. Has left.

(Lots of Lindsey’s friends have left in the last few weeks, and that sucks, but none of them hurt like this. None of them make her want to walk around outside in the rain listening to sad music and crying. Sonnett being gone makes her want to do that.)

She tries to do anything that isn’t crying in the living room: folding her laundry, running the dishwasher, wiping down the countertop. But doing all of these things just reminds her of doing them with Sonnett. Sonnett lived here as much as Lindsey does: emptying the dishwasher, cooking in the kitchen, sleeping on the couch or, more recently, in Lindsey’s bed, claiming she was too tired to go home to her empty house. It’s Lindsey’s name on the lease, but Sonnett’s fingerprints are all over it.

She hears her phone ring and debates ignoring it, until she realizes it might be important.

She’s glad she did when she rescues it from the kitchen counter and the name Dasani scrolls across the screen. Her fingers don’t move as fast as she likes but she’s answering it soon enough, her heart caught in her throat.

“Sonny?”

“Hi,” Sonnett says, and her voice sounds raspy.

“You okay? You didn’t forget anything, did you?” Lindsey's lost track of time, but if she had to guess, it's probably only been a half hour since she left. (It feels like it's been a week already.)

“No, I—can you just stay on the phone for a while? Bagel’s asleep and I—I already miss you so much and I feel lonely,” she confesses.

Lindsey feels a fresh wave of tears fall down her cheeks. “Yeah, Son. I’m right here. As long as you need.”

: : :

They talk every day on the phone, at least once in the morning and once in the afternoon. Sometimes Sonnett FaceTimes her from whatever hotel room she’s staying in that night, and every time Lindsey hates it. She hates how she’s just getting further and further away from Portland, that she hasn’t changed her mind and come back. She hates when she answers one night and Sonnett is wearing a tank top that once belonged to Lindsey. It looks better on Emily than it ever did on Lindsey, and that’s annoying.

Lindsey’s mom tells her that maybe she should leave the house, go do things, try to see her other friends. But she can’t. 

“Sonnett might need me,” Lindsey says, and she doesn’t see how her mom doesn’t get it.

“She’s a big girl,” her mom says in response. “She has other people she can call if she’s sad, or bored on the drive. You don’t have to wait around for her to call.”

And Lindsey doesn’t know how to respond to _ that. _

: : :

Emily’s first day with the Pride is the day after she arrives. Lindsey knows this because Emily told her, had sent her the whole schedule for her first week with the team. But she also knows it because she saw them post all about their newest player on their Instagram. It was Emily this and Emily that and polls and question stickers and Sonnett speaking into the camera, her eyes bright and her cheeks a little pink.

It’s the weirdest mix of hurt and happiness, seeing the first photo of Sonnett in a Pride jersey. Emily is beaming, and she’s getting all the attention she’s always deserved.

But the thing is:

It doesn’t feel right at all.

“Yeah, it felt weird,” Sonnett says on the phone later that afternoon. It’s afternoon for Lindsey but evening for Sonny, which has been one of the weirdest adjustments of this whole thing. They’re not in the same timezone anymore, and it still catches Lindsey by surprise sometimes.

It’s just that sometimes time is so _ big, _four pm feeling so far away from Sonnett’s seven. She hates it.

“It was weird to see you in a different jersey.”

“It was weird to put it on. I bet you’re not gonna know what to do with me when you see me for that first game.”

Lindsey laughs loudly. Too loudly. It’s another thing to add to the list of things she doesn’t want to think about. “It’s so weird that you’re on a different team, Son.”

Emily takes a deep breath, so sharp that Lindsey can hear it down the line. 

“You’re always gonna be on my team, you know that? No matter what.”

“I miss you so much,” Lindsey says, and it feels like that’s all she knows how to say these days.

: : : 

She gets the league schedule the week before it’s released to the public, and when she cross references it with her calendar she has to laugh. The Orlando Pride are coming to Providence Park in May, but it’s in the middle of a FIFA window. They’ll both be with the national team. They won’t be playing against each other when they’re both there until after the Olympics.

**Lindsey: **looks like I get to play on your team for a while longer huh

**Dasani: **i already told you, i’m always on your team, even if we’re not in the same jersey. but yes i’m glad too :)

And _ that _ makes her cry a little bit.

(She’s doing a lot of crying these days. She's thinking of buying stock in Kleenex.)

: : : 

The first day of practice, she gets dressed and waits on the couch, phone in hand. It’s a text from Tobin, telling her she’s ready with as many hugs as she needs, that makes her realize Sonnett’s not coming to pick her up.

She pulls her hood on over her head and walks to the stadium, heart pounding the whole way.

Practice is... fine. Her heart's not in it, and everyone's kind enough not to mention it.

She goes to their favorite coffee shop after practice, intent to keep up as much of her routine as she can. Just because Sonnett left doesn’t mean she needs to stop doing fun things. It’s okay for her to make her own memories.

“Just you today?” the usual barista says. He’s clearly not up on his Thorns knowledge. “Haven’t seen your friend in a bit.”

Lindsey feels like she’s going to throw up, and she shakes her head.

“Sorry, I have to go—I—bye.” The door makes a jingling noise as she flings it open, and she hears it slam when she’s halfway down the sidewalk.

This is the worst thing she’s ever been through.

: : :

She makes friends with the new kids on the team, figuring that after three years she’s experienced enough to take them under her wing. She needs to learn to fill that mentorship role. It’s her responsibility.

When she takes them out for ice cream, one of them starts chatting about her girlfriend.

“It’s hard, cause she’s in DC, but we try to talk on the phone every day. It sucks though, because of the time difference.”

“Three hours seems really big sometimes, doesn’t it?” Lindsey adds without thinking. “I’m always calling Sonnett at the wrong times.”

She watches three pairs of eyes go wide. One of them hits the other on the arm. “I told you,” she hisses. “I told you they were dating!”

“I told you they weren’t—” Sophia starts, and the other two cut her off with their own mutterings.

(Lindsey still feels awful for how she treated her that first camp when they got the news about the trade. She hasn’t apologized with words but she’s been doing her best to make up for it.) 

“Me and Sonny?” Lindsey sputters. “We’re not dating.”

“You sure act like you’re dating,” one of the girls says, sucking on the straw of her milkshake.

Lindsey looks at Sophia for help. Sophia looks guilty, but then she shrugs.

“I mean… you do kinda act like you’re dating, that’s all. It’s okay! It’s not a bad thing. You miss her.”

“We’re not dating,” Lindsey insists, and it sounds weak even to her own ears. “I miss her, but we’re not dating.”

"Sonnett's awesome," Sophia says thoughtfully, and Lindsey wants to cry.

: : :

It’s hard to listen to Sonnett being so happy, sometimes. The waves of jealousy come at random times, when she’s out on the practice field or looking at the big 16 on a rookie’s jersey or listening to Sonnett talk about her new friends. (“They’re cool, but they’ll never match up to you, Linessi,” Sonnett insists, and that makes Lindsey want to claw her face off.)

Emily has this whole life that Lindsey’s never seen, and Lindsey almost resents her for it. She hates the whole state of Florida, hates Sonnett’s new friends, hates the fact that Sonnett is hanging out with girls who aren’t her.

She hates it so much, and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

: : :

She watches Sonnett’s games every chance she gets, tucked up in her too-big apartment on her too-big couch with some popcorn.

The first time she sees Sonnett walk onto the field at Exploria Stadium in a Pride jersey, she’s not sure whether she’s crying out of heartache or overwhelming pride. It’s so weird to watch Sonnett’s games, to text her all her thoughts about how she’s doing. She knows there are other players on the field but she never, ever sees them, her eyes glued on number 6 (and isn’t that weird to see, the 6 looking so alone without the 1 to match it).

It’s nice because she can focus on Sonny the whole time, but she _ hates _ that she’s not there with her, passing her the ball or celebrating when she does well. It’s not the same to be at home for it, on her couch instead of on the field with her. It’s not the same at all.

She knows Sonnett feels the same because when she gets back to the locker room after a game, she’ll more often than not have a string of texts talking about _ her _ performance. There are the times they play at the same time, because the NWSL loves to schedule its games at the same time, but Lindsey always makes sure to watch the Pride games as soon as she can.

It’s different, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it, but she’s making it work. Sonnett is still her person.

She wishes she could be her person _here_, instead of 3,034 miles away.

: : :

She’s alone on a Friday night, scrolling through Netflix and wondering when it’s ever going to stop hurting. She thinks she’s put all the pieces together now and wondering why the hell she didn’t realize it when Emily was here with her, hanging out in the same apartment and talking with her over stupid movies and picking her up even though she can see the stadium from her house and could’ve walked. They were together all the time, and Lindsey never put it together. Things could’ve been different. 

She’s wasted so much time. 

“Fuck it,” she says out loud, and she calls Sonnett before she can think about it further. They don’t work together as much anymore. She doesn’t see her every day. It absolutely sucks and it hurts so much and everything feels different. The _ game _ feels different. But maybe there’s an opportunity there, the chance to tell her how she really feels. The worst that can happen is Sonnett tells her she doesn’t feel the same, and Lindsey cries even harder for three weeks, and then she moves on.

It’s only after the third ring that she remembers time zones exist, and it’s late here so it’s even later in Orlando, and she ends the call. Emily doesn’t call back.

There’s a text when she wakes up asking if everything’s okay, and Lindsey blames it on a butt dial and hopes for the best.

: : : 

Before she knows it, it's time for National Team camp again. Seeing Emily again after so long feels like being reunited with a piece of herself, even more than the previous few times this has happened this year. They’re roommates and spend the entire camp annoying everyone and making up stupid dances and the soccer is so, so fun. It’s then that Lindsey knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she’s in love with Emily Sonnett. She has been for a very long time.

She considers telling her, but camp is all in and laser focused, and she doesn’t want to risk doing anything that might make Emily upset or throw off their balance. This year is too important.

Lying in bed at night with Emily in the next bed is the worst kind of torture she’s ever experienced. She’s right there, but Lindsey can’t reach out and do anything about it.

Now that she knows she’s in love, it’s like everything Sonnett does is magnified. Her laugh is the one sounds Lindsey would never get sick of hearing. She wants to reach out and touch her every chance she gets, but she doesn’t want to be obvious, so she settles for pushing up against her when tackling for the ball and for sitting next to her on the bus, making a show of big hugs after they’ve been apart for ten minutes.

From the looks Kelley and Mal and Rose and Sam are shooting her, she knows everyone is on to her.

The difference is that she doesn’t care anymore. Not if it means she can keep stealing fragments of Emily’s time.

: : :

It’s only a week or two later (12 days, but who’s counting) when it’s Lindsey’s phone ringing late at night.

“I miss you,” Sonnett says when Lindsey says hello, and it takes only a few moments for Lindsey to register the pitch of her voice, the way her words are slurring a little, the noise of the television loud in the background. Emily is probably not sober right now.

“Sonny, you okay?”

“I’m drunk.”

“It’s two am there. Are you okay?”

“You just asked me that.”

“Yeah,” Lindsey says softly. “I just… I don’t know. I miss you.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Emily says. “It’s two in the morning and I’m thinking that I miss you so much that I’m about to drive to whatever the hell Orlando’s airport is called and come back to your apartment.”

Lindsey feels her stomach clench. She imagines it every day, but to hear Sonnett say it makes it feel like a real possibility.

“I wish you could,” she says, and she’s about to tell her to go for it anyway when she remembers that she’s flying to New Jersey tomorrow. 

“Linds, I love you,” Emily says, and there’s a clanking of a glass bottle against a counter. Lindsey feels her heart shoot up into her throat. Everything feels like so much, and she can’t tell if Sonnett meant it how Lindsey would mean it if she says it back.

It’s torture, but Lindsey stays on the phone with her, coaxes her into bed and then goes to bed herself. When she wakes up, the phone is next to her pillow and the call is still active.

: : : 

Two days before they’re due to play against each other in Providence Park for the first time, Lindsey hears a knock on her door. No one ever comes to the door unannounced anymore, not now that Sonnett has moved across the country and most of Lindsey’s friends have left.

She opens the door, and Sonnett is standing there, raincoat jacket over her head and a suitcase at her side. She’s grinning, smiling with the thrill of a prank she’s pulled off. Lindsey’s heart is pounding.

“Surprise!”

“Holy shit, Sonny,” Lindsey says.

“Are you gonna keep standing there or are you ever going to let me in?”

“Come in, come in,” Lindsey says, but before she can do that she’s stepping out into the rain and hugging Emily as best she can without going outside in her bare feet. “Wow. You’re here.”

“I love you,” Sonnett says, stumbling over her feet on her way in the door. “I love you and I think you maybe feel the same because you’ve been calling me all the time and listening to really sad love songs on Spotify and you’re always there, saying the right things and—”

“Son, breathe,” Lindsey says, pushing Emily’s suitcase into the living room and not bothering to figure out what’s got her here a day early; she hasn’t had any time to clean. She needs Sonnett to talk slower because she’s pretty certain she’s just heard her say some stuff she’s been wanting for a long time, and she wants to make sure she hears it properly. “Deep breath.”

Emily wrings her fingers together and steps into the center of the kitchen, into the light. Her hair is in a messy bun and under that pink Adidas cap she and Lindsey both love so much. Her jacket is a little too big for her, the purple and white raincoat making her look smaller than she is.

She grins and it hits Lindsey then, just how much she loves her.

“I thought getting traded was the worst thing that happened to me,” Emily starts, and Lindsey’s confused, standing stock still as she tries to wrap her brain around where this could be going.

“Okay?” Lindsey says when she doesn’t speak.

“But I was wrong. Now I know it was the best thing and the worst. The best because it made me realize that I’ve been in love with you for three years, and the worst because you’re so fucking far away and I haven’t been able to do anything about it.”

“Can you say that again?” Lindsey asks, her face going hot. She watches the slow smile that spreads across Emily’s face, and she can’t help but cross the distance between them until she’s right in front of Emily, holding her hands between them.

“Do I need to get your ears checked?” Emily says with a wry grin. “Have the team doctors quit?”

“I just want to make sure I’m hearing you properly. Because I thought I heard you say that you love me—”

“I do.”

“Good, cause I love you too,” Lindsey says, and the way that Emily inhales and her eyes flutter shut makes everything about this whole shitty situation worth it.

“You’re not gonna be able to get rid of me now,” Emily warns, reaching out for Lindsey’s waist.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Lindsey teases, and then she leans in and kisses Emily.

It’s good, right from the start, that mix of intimacy and relief and satisfaction. It starts off soft, both of them learning each other, getting acquainted in a way that’s different than they’ve ever done before. Emily is short enough that she has to tilt her head up to kiss Lindsey properly, and she’s never thought about that before but she _ loves _ it.

Emily moans against her mouth and pushes them forward with her body weight, getting Lindsey backed up against the counter. She’s content to let Emily lead them, happy to follow wherever Emily wants to go.

“You mean it?” Lindsey asks, suddenly frantic, pulling away to confirm that this isn’t all a weird fever dream.

“Love you so much,” Emily confirms, kissing her quickly between the words. Lindsey’s thighs are digging into the drawer pulls. “Hate that I was too scared to do anything about it until now.”

“We wasted so much time,” Lindsey murmurs, and Emily pulls away, head shaking frantically.

“No, no, Linds, we didn’t. Not a single moment was wasted.”

Lindsey looks at her, quizzical. Emily seems insistent on this one thing, so she lets her keep going.

“We were together,” Emily says softly. “So it wasn’t. It wasn’t a waste.”

Lindsey inhales sharply and pulls Emily close, hugging her tight. “I love you so much.”

“Me too,” Emily says, and that makes Lindsey lift her onto the counter so she can keep kissing her again.

Now that they’ve started, she never wants to stop.

: : :

They do their handshake from across the field, and Lindsey knows that no matter what, they’re going to be okay.


End file.
